ITS JUST BUSINESS
by Douglas Fett
Summary: The sixth flashback RP of my main character, Douglas Fett.
1. Culture Clash

In the odd peace following the end of the Mandalorian Wars, the Republic struggles to rebuild. The victor of the wars, the Jedi Revan, has left the known galaxy with all his forces, leaving the Republic and its people to fend for themselves. Many of those displaced by the war - refugees, soldiers, and mercenaries, live on to find their niche in the galaxy, finding solace – or despair – in every corner of the galaxy.

The Mandalorian Clans, disarmed, disorganized, and defeated following the final battle of the wars, pose no great threat to the Republic as a whole. Some have returned to the Mandalorian homeworld, many others have become mercenaries, and a small few have endured to try to relive the old days by becoming bandits. The few who find themselves armoured and on the run risk being captured – or killed – for a bounty posed by the Jedi Revan, who decreed that any Mandalorian who didn't surrender to him would find a bounty on their head.

One Mandalore warriour, foregoing all of these options, travels armed and armoured to the Galactic Core – Coruscant, his foe's lions nest – to find answers.

This is that story.

_Dramatis Personae_

Douglas Fett – Male Human Mandalorian; ex-Legionnaire  
>Mawbo – Male Shawda Ubb; Hangar owner<br>Camille Mannix – Human female; M.G. Mannix's wife  
>Maxwell-Geoffrey Mannix – Human male; club owner and crimelord<p>

_Author's note: An entirely new RP, the plot for this came from something I cooked up back in 2006. Like all my flashbacks, these are all several years old, back when I was brainstorming adventures for Fett to get involved in. It wasn't until I upgraded from "n00b" did I think of how Fett, as a person, would be developed internally._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

**3,960**

**Outer Rim – Sevarcos II**

Orange beams of light shot in through the cantina's roof sky lights, casting a warm glow on the rough interior. It was pretty quiet. A few spacers had sat down at the bar, stopping for a bite to eat while their ships fueled. Some smugglers, because they couldn't be anything else with the way they talked, sat a few booths down from me. The bartender, some local Sevari with an impressive beer belly, served patrons their drinks, and in amateur fashion, scrubbed down the bar while pretending not to sneak wary glances at me.*

_Same old same old_ I thought dryly to myself. This was the fourth Outer Rim planet I had stopped in at after that final battle. In truth, I had no idea what I was doing. There was no Mandalore. No clan leader. No mentor. No one to say _ner vod_ to. No one to watch my back and vice versa. Life had become…pointless. For weeks, I tried not to think about it. Focused on…anything else. But everything else was…stupid. Holo vids with "heroes" played by girly little panzies, people getting fired from their mind-numbing office jobs, wives cheating on their husbands. If Revan had indeed achieved victory, it sure didn't help the galaxy become interesting. Though occasionally I picked up good tips on accident. Like now. I used my helmet sensors to overhear the smugglers, a Devaronian and a Talz, discuss some matter which required them to whisper.

"_So listen. Coruscant customs are tough, but we can get in._" The Devaronian whispered.

"_But how boss? They've had added security for the last five years. The last time we could get in was for that Sriluurian job._" The Talz replied.

"_Ssh, keep your voice down! Listen, this what we do. We go through Industrial District. Coruscant cops so busy with traffic they don't check shipping lanes. It's a sure thing. Trust me._"

"_If you say so boss._" The Talz said with a shrug. I pondered the captain's idea for a few moments before a conversation sparked elsewhere.

"So where you headed?" One of the human patrons at the bar asked of another spacer. The latter, a Rodian, sipped down the rest of his drink, while I watched from the far corner of the cantina.

"Taris. Supplies, food stuffs, bacta, the usual shipments. They were hit pretty hard by the Mandalorians. It'll take them a while to rebuild." The Rodian replied. The human shook his head, while the bartender stood by listening.

"Blasted Mandalorians. They attacked the Republic, and for what? To get slaughtered at the end? I tell you what, their end wasn't pretty, but you know, those bastards had it coming." The human ranted. The bartender's eyes grew wide, and he nodded to behind the human. The human blinked and turned around, coming face to face with my helmed visage.

"You were saying?" I asked.

"I, uh, didn't say anything." The human replied. I glared down at him from behind my visor, before turning to head back to my drink. As I turned, the human muttered something insulting, thinking I wouldn't hear him. The Rodian and bartender laughed. _I heard him._ I turned back around, and before the human could face me, I kicked the stool out from under him, causing him to fall against the bar. I grabbed the back of his head, smashed his face onto the bar counter multiple times, grabbed him by the shoulders, slammed my armoured knee up into his stomach, before chucking him against the cantina wall behind me. He collapsed to the ground in a broken heap. The two smugglers looked in my direction warily. Satisfied, I turned to face the bartender and Rodian.

"Anybody else want to make a joke?" Both shook their head nervously. I tossed some credits onto the bar counter for the 'tender. "Sorry about the mess." I said dryly, before turning and heading outside, passing by my pal on the ground.

I headed outside to the refueling station, just a short distance away from the cantina and the local Inn. All three were one entity, owned by that fat bartender. There was no village – this was just a waypoint for local miners, spacers and the like. The other spacer's ships were parked outside too. As I walked across the brown sand of the planet back to my Basilisk, the wind picked up. It was quite common, sandstorms, on Sevarcos II. If you didn't have proper gear, like my own armour or heavy shawls, you were in for a beating. I returned to my ship, and found the refueling was finished. The amount of credits it took to refill a ship was quite high, but years ago when Mandalore first began conquering, we had begun collecting loot, including credits. The credits were reserved for special operations like Tairek and I conducted, that usually involved undercover work. Access to these funds had become a moot point after Malachor, but I still had a sizable fund when I had set out on my own. Now I was running low. I shook my head. Is this what 'normal' people had to worry about, having enough cash to buy the next meal or trip off world? It was ridiculous. At the peak of the war, we didn't have to worry about such silly material needs. How foolish. Now I was falling into the trap of becoming just like every other sentient in the galaxy, broke and hungry. It had crossed my mind to simply murder people for cash, but that seemed…dishonourable.

As I began to head inside my Basilisk, my helmet sensors alerted me to a small cadre of individuals happening upon the refueling station. No one from the cantina, nor Inn. No, these individuals were coming from…the desert. I could make out the details of a ship, parked, some distance away. Why didn't they just park at the refueling station? As the figures approached, I could make out six men, wearing…suits and sunglasses? Obviously no one local. Yuppies, with enough credits stashed up their tight asses to buy loud suits like those. Probably have to buy more, what with the sandstorm and all. I shook my head.

_Dar'manda, fucking idiots_ I thought to myself cynically. Before I headed inside, one of them yelled out to me.

"Mandalorian!" The lead yelled. I got a bad feeling just then, and subtly checked my holstered pistol. My rifle was in the cockpit. I turned to face them. They all had blasters in their hands, though they weren't aiming them at me. "You'll come with us. Now." The lead yelled at me across the roar of the sand. I shook my helmeted head, and activated several weapons systems on my armour with voice commands.

_Bounty hunters. Looking for "easy credits."_

"You can come with us quietly and we won't hurt you. Your kind is a rare breed nowadays, and your worth a lot of credits." The lead said. I remained silent, still delivering voice commands my "friends" couldn't hear. "Come now, you won't get killed. Someone may simply want to hire you as a bodyguard. Quite a few of your kind are mercenaries nowadays, and there's nothing wrong with that." The lead said. I was ready.

My helmet sensors alerted me to the spacers from inside leaving. The thugs kept their attention on me however, fervently gripping their pistols in anticipation. The spacers, seeing what was about to happen, fled to their ships. As they fled, the lead grinned.

"Get this guy." He ordered. His men raised their pistols and began firing, as I strafed towards the cantina, my voice commands from earlier now activating various weapons. Knee rocket darts fired out as I ran, homing in on two of the thugs. While I fired my blaster with my left hand, I used my right to fire my gauntlet wrist lasers and rocket darts with voice commands. Two of the thugs went down dead, a third wounded, the other three managing to get to cover in time behind the corner of the cantina, while I found cover within the small entrance leading inside the cantina. "Nice trick Mandalorian, but you won't escape us." The lead yelled.

_Whatever_ I thought, annoyed. My helmet alerted me to two of the thugs coming around the corner. I edged to the corner, and waited. As the first approached, I brought my right arm up in a 90 degree angle, bashing the man's face with a back fist. He fell to the ground, holding his face, while I came around the corner to shoot at his surprised comrade. He managed to get a bolt off, which pegged into my chest armour. I gritted my teeth, slightly pained, and killed him with multiple blasts to the upper chest. As the lead ducked around the corner to shoot at me, I grabbed the man's whose face I rearranged, pulled him around the corner, stood him up in front of me, facing forward, and fashioned him as a body shield. One arm around his neck, the other, blaster pointed to his head.

"Hopefully your buddy is a good shot." I said to my personal meat shield.

"Fuck…oh fuck!" He cried, as I came out of cover. The lead peeked around, spotted us, and ducked back.

"You don't have to kill him!" The lead yelled out.

"That remains to be seen." I replied. As I walked forward, meat shield in tow, the latter tried to play the hero and counter attacked me. He threw my arms away, and began to run back to cover. At the same time, his friend ducked around the cover to shoot me. Blaster raised, I shot my meat shield in the back before he could escape. I continued forward, running over dead meat, and catching the lead as he poked around cover again. Before he could fire off a shot, I kicked his hand, sending his blaster flying. I leveled my blaster at his head.

"Well played Mandalorian."

"I'm not finished yet." I replied, noting the one I had wounded earlier with a rocket. His life signs, according to my helmet readings, were failing rapidly. I paid him no heed. "I want answers. Who sent you?"

"What are you talking about? We're mercenaries, nothing more!" He replied. Angered, I reached down and pulled him up, shoving him against the cantina's exterior wall. I used my weapon hand to pistol whip him, bashing aside his sunglasses. "Ah, damn its bright!"

"Answer me!"

"I said it already, we're freelance mercenaries, we knew there was one of you in the area so we investigated!" He replied. _Bullshit_. I had played interrogator enough over the past years to know when someone was lying. I pulled the blaster away from his head, and shot his forearm point blank. He cried out in pain, _loudly_.

"Are you going to tell me now?" I asked, blaster again at his temple.

"Let me go if I talk?"

"If you leave the planet." I said, lying. If there was one thing I had learned from covert operations, it was this. _Dead men tell no tales_.

"Fine, fine. We work for a guy named M.G. Mannix, on Coruscant." He said, panting, reeling from the pain.

"Tell me about him."

"Runs a club, _The Blue Barracle_. Fancy gig. The club is just a front. He's into vice, narcotics, makes loads off of it."

"Into hunting _my kind_ too?" I pressed, pushing the blaster more into his temple.

"Its just a recent thing! Business is good but extra profits are always a plus! Don't take it personally! It's just business!" He pleaded. I snorted.

"_Business_, sure, sure. And who talked?"

"What?"

"Who told your boss I was here?"

"Please, no! Just leave the guy alone!"

"Your not making my day any better." I replied, ejecting my gauntlet's vibroblade.

"Alright, alright! The owner of the cantina! He runs this whole station!"

"Thanks." I replied, throwing the thug to the ground. I aimed my pistol at his head.

"But you said you'd let me go!"

"_Its just business._" I replied. I fired a single bolt, killing him instantly. His buddy, wounded from earlier, had ceased to exist just seconds prior. I walked back to the cantina entrance, but before I could enter, the wooden doors shattered before me. Inside, the bartender was aiming his shotgun at me. I dodged out of the way as he fired a second volley.

"Get out of here Mandalorian, get out!" The bartender shouted. I had taken cover beside the entrance, and held position as the bartender wildly fired off his remaining cartridges. After a few 'clicks,' I peeked around the corner and saw the bartender frantically trying to reload. I came out of cover, and shot the gun out of his hand. He dropped behind the bar as I rounded the counter, beating him to the exit. I kicked through the small door, confronting the bartender as he struggled to flee. He reeled backwards as I walked forward behind the counter. "Please, don't hurt me!"

"You talked." I said, still stalking him as he backpedaled.

"What? Oh, come on man, I need the credits! You think its easy keeping a place like this going!"

"_Credits._ Is that all you _di'kutla_ ever think about?"

"Easy for you to say! You Mandalorians kill and murder and rape, and take anything you want!" The bartender shot back. I gritted my teeth, annoyed. I aimed my pistol at him. "Please, no!"

"Its just business." I replied coldly. I shot him in the head. He went down quick.

Spotting the cash register, I broke it open with a good punch, and found several stacks of credits. I didn't like what I was doing. I hated "credits," money. It was evil, a vice, something created by _dar'manda_ to fuel their pitiful little reality. Yet, now…it was a necessary evil. I couldn't live without it. Stealing? Sure, if I wanted attention. And with the recent bounty posted for Mandalorians on the run, I didn't need attention. I shook my head and looted all the credits from the register and the bartender, and stashed it in a bag. I took note that I was in a bar, and there was plenty of alcohol to be had. I shrugged, snagged a few bottles of whiskey, and left back to my ship.

I didn't like any of it. Meeting with all these Republic types…thugs, working class heroes, smugglers, spacers, all these scum I had used as tools in the past, but now I was interacting with them on a regular basis. I was slowly adopting their customs, and for that, I despised them. Once back inside the Basilisk, I took off into space, leaving Sevarcos II behind me. As I sat in thought, wondering where to go, I thought of the smugglers, and their "fool-proof" plan for getting into Coruscant. Then there was the fact this Mannix character was on Coruscant…after pondering an idea for several moments, I sucked it up, and input hyperspace coordinates for the world my foes called home.


	2. So much for Customs

**Core Worlds – Coruscant**

I blasted out of hyperspace over the Republic capital, _The Furious Serenity_'s active camo on. I avoided the usual traffic as I headed down to "The Works," as it was sometimes called. Breaking through the planet's atmosphere, slipping past customs, I traveled over the planet's mass cityscape. I couldn't help but spare semi-impressed glances at the planet beneath me. The Republic, pathetic as it was, was a determined little creature alright. I piloted the Basilisk across the more popular districts, and into the smog covered regions of the Industrial District. Flying over various shipping and manufacturing companies, and other businesses, I did a search of the holonet for private hangars, some place to lay low for a while. My search directed me to various places, but they all looked…sleazy. As I flew, I spotted down below an unmarked hangar, one not listed in the holonet. I took it down, and with a quick scan, noted it was inhabited. I flew the Basilisk inside and landed. Looking out the cockpit, I noticed a small office with some odd, chubby alien in it. The fellow noticed my ship had landed, and _waddled_ out of his office. Properly armed, I exited the ship, and onto the durasteel floor of the hangar.

"'Ey stranger, how ya' doin? Name's Mawbo." The fellow said. I recognized the species. Shawda Ubb. I was hesitant for a moment. _No one_ I had met in my recent travels was ever this friendly to me.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked. Naturally, any Republic type who came face to face with a Mandalorian either turned away in fear or tried to pick a fight.

"Uh…no. Should I?" Mawbo replied. I grinned behind my helmet.

"Do you look at the holonet much, old timer?" I asked. Mawbo shrugged.

"Eh, whats da point? I'm happy here doin' what I'm doin. Running dis' hangar here is my business and I enjoy it." Mawbo replied. I liked him already. He was fat and happy, and didn't give a damn about what was going on in the galaxy.

"Sounds good to me. How much do I owe ya?" I asked. Mawbo mulled for a few moments, reconsidering.

"Eh, maybe instead'a payin, you could, uh, get some rat thief, eh?" Mawbo offered. I frowned behind my helm.

"I'm no bounty hunter." I replied. Mawbo shook his head.

"Nah, cwose' not, but you look, eh, capable, yah?" Mawbo replied. I grinned.

"You want a clean kill or-"

"Nah nah nah, nuttin' like dat. Just bing him in here is all. Okey dokey?" Mawbo asked.

"Ok then. Who is he?"

"Eh, some punk Aqualish. Govo. 'Uns a small gang just dat way. Be ceffel." Mawbo said, pointing out the hangar to an alley a few blocks down.

"I'll find him."

I left my rifle in the Basilisk. I didn't need to attract more attention than already necessary. Maybe if I was lucky, people would just think I was a mercenary. Plenty of Mandalorians had gone down that route after all. Exiting the hangar down to street level, I headed down a few blocks under the late afternoon sun. Passerby gave me weary stares and steered clear of me. How typical. After a few blocks, passing various duracrete buildings, all empty, I came upon an alley. Down at the end were four figures. Two Gran, an Ishi Tib, and an Aqualish. I did a quick scan for traps. Nothing. These were just street urchins, nothing threatening. I began down the alley. The four noticed me, and put up a brave façade as I approached.

"What you want, Mando?" The Aqualish asked, pointing at me. His three pals had began running their hands for their holstered blasters.

"Govo?"

"Sure. Whats it to you?"

"Your coming with me." I replied. The four laughed. In their distraction, I grabbed Govo, gave him a good punch, shoved him aside, then quickly unholstered my pistol and shot his three friends each once in the knee, wounding, not killing them. They crashed to the ground in pain, holding their wounded knees. One of the Gran motioned for his pistol, but stopped when I aimed my pistol at him.

"What the-what did we do?"

"Just thank Mawbo I didn't kill all of you." I replied. I ensnared Govo with whipcord, then dragged him out of the alley and back down the street to Mawbo's hangar. Hauling him up the stairs, ignoring his cries, Mawbo looked over to see us come in. I dragged Govo over to Mawbo's office.

"Eh, so you dink you could get away wit it, eh Govo?" Mawbo asked, arms akimbo as he waddled over.

"I'm sorry for stealing from you, honest! Just don't let this guy kill me!"

"Eh, he won't kill ya. But I want my money back Govo." Mawbo replied, as I kept Govo pinned.

"The, the bag on belt!" Govo replied shakily. I reached down and grabbed a small bag from his belt, and handed it to Mawbo. Mawbo looked inside and grinned.

"Good boy. I'm going to have my Mando fwend he'a wet you go. You steal fwom me again doh, you won't be so wucky. Got it?"

"Got it, got it!" Govo replied. I undid the whipcord, and Govo fled. Mawbo walked back to his little office, and I followed him.

"Eh, thanks stranga. Fur dat, I'll let you stay here fwee. In fact, I got some otha folks who wanted to come in, but I dink I'll let you pak he'a instead." Mawbo decreed. I shook my head, and retrieved several credits extra from my utility belt.

"I insist Mawbo. You need them more than me."

"Eh, how genewous, danks stranga. So what you doin on Cowuscant?"

"Looking for someone." I replied, not revealing more than necessary.

"Oh yah? Maybe I can help. Whos da lucky dame?" Mawbo asked. I grinned.

"It's nothing like that. He runs a club here on Coruscant. _The Blue Barracle._ I'd like to check the place out."

"Eh, I see, I see. I'll find it fow ya." Mawbo replied. The pudgy Shawda Ubb got up on his stool and began scanning the holonet. After a few moments he found it. "Ah ha, _Da B'ue Bekkel_. Gwid cwoodinates he'a." Mawbo announced. I look at the holo-projection, noted the coordinates for the club in my helmet, and turned to leave. "Hey, you not going in der like dat, aa'ya?" Mawbo asked. He had a point.

"I guess not."

"Go buy a suit young man. I'll call you a taxi." Mawbo said. I grinned. Good old fella. I went in my ship and changed into some civvies, ones that _weren't_ blood stained. I took my pistol and stashed it in my coat's inner holster. I came out in some regular street clothes. Mawbo noticed me. "Eh, not as I pict'ud ya. Meet some wadies and sweep em off der feet, okey dokey?"

"Do my best Mawbo." I said, turning and heading for the exit.

"Eh stranga, neva' got ya name." Mawbo said. I stopped and turned around.

"Fett. Douglas Fett."


	3. Hello, Mrs Robinson

The skycar taxi stopped off at a tailor in one of the more upscale shopping districts of Coruscant. The Human driver, persuaded by credits, waited for me to finish inside. The tailor, an older gent about his 60s, fitted together a tuxedo for me. I stood in front of the mirror and watched as he did his thing.

"Well, almost done here. If I may ask sir, whats a young man like yourself need a suit for anyway?"

"Meeting a business associate." I said, unflinching. Lies were standard protocol.

"Very good sir." The tailor replied, as he continued fitting. I took a glance at a mannequin and noticed it was adorned with not just a tux, but a fedora and long tan overcoat. I nodded to them.

"I'd like those too."

"A fine choice sir." The tailor replied, as he plucked a fedora and overcoat from a stand and let me try them on. Perfect fit. I nodded to him. "And how will you be paying today sir?"

"Cash."

"Excellent. 400 credits sir." The tailor said. I produced the credits and handed them over. "Thank you very much for your business sir. Have a good night."

"And you." I replied, leaving. I picked up my civvies from before, and as I walked out, I subtly pulled the blaster out of the coat, and put it in my new suit's dinner jacket. I tossed the old civvies into a dumpster on the street outside, regretfully, and went back to the cab. "The Blue Barracle."

"You got it pal." The cabbi said. He took off, and several minutes later, after flying through the usual sky traffic, arrived outside _The Blue Barracle_, located within one of the upscale sub-districts of Uscru.

I paid the guy and exited into the Coruscant night. The club's sign, illuminated by bright blue neon lights, attracted all sorts. Mostly the "beautiful people," celebrities, gentlemen with Twi'lek arm candy, everybody and anybody who wanted to be noticed came here. The line to get in was held up by a burly bouncer. Breaking into private property, however, was nothing new to me. I walked along the street, away from the club, eyes forward, fedora shrouding my face as I turned down an alley. As I mosied down, a chef from the Club's kitchen stepped outside, and dumped a trash bag into a dumpster nearby.

I stuck to the shadows, avoiding him. He stepped back inside and I followed him in shortly thereafter, entering the busy kitchen. The cooks were too busy to notice me as I slipped past them, walking in like I owned the place. As I continued along, searching for anything, some way to get into the main club, what little cover I had was blown. Guards in suits, on the opposite end of the kitchen, spotted me, retrieved blasters from their inner coat pockets, and started running after me. I bolted for the nearest door, kicking it open and entering into a long red hallway, with wood paneling and holo-photos on the walls.

I continued running, and entered the first set of stairs leading up. Exiting the stairwell, I came upon another hallway, found the first door on the right, and entered inside what looked like a private lounge, to find a rather attractive older woman being accosted by some shitbird, maybe about her age. They were both dressed considerably well, the man was in a suit and the gal looked very classy in her black and white dress. He had pulled a knife, and had her wrist in his hand when I had entered. They had looked at me confused as I came inside the room. He had an angry expression on his face. Her eyes were screaming "help."

"Get out kid." The guy warned. I didn't know what I was walking into. These people weren't my problem, the guards coming after me were. But that look she gave me…something about it struck a chord inside me. I took a step forward. "You asked for it punk!" The man yelled. He threw the woman aside, and she crashed into the booth. The bulky old fellow came at me with the knife. Acting quickly, I grabbed his knife arm, using his momentum to send him crashing face first into the wall. Still holding his weapon arm, I shot my knee up into his spine multiple times, before grabbing his knife and jamming it into the back of his hand, piercing through into the wall and pinning him there. "Aaaaah!" The man yelled in pain as the guards from before burst in, blasters raised. They noticed the man, knife _through_ his hand, and pointed their weapons at me.

"Down on the ground NOW!" One of them yelled. I stood still, as the gal came over and stood beside me.

"Gentlemen, please. This nice young man is with me. In fact, he saved me from _him._" The woman said to the guards, with a curious amount of confidence. Was there an implied _order_ in her comment?

"Ma'am, we caught this guy breaking in through the kitchen. And you're saying you know him?" One of the guards asked. She smiled.

"Why, yes. So you'd be on your best behaviour, and start pointing those guns at the man who had assaulted me." The woman said.

"Mr. Mannix won't like hearing about this, Ma'am." The lead guard said. His cronies kept their attention on me, and I returned it. After a few moments they looked away. Figures. Gun jockeys know how to shoot, but have never seen war.

"Well, we'll just keep this as our little secret, won't we? Now please, escort this man outside and get him some medical attention, will you?" The gal replied forcefully. The guards holstered their blasters, helped the old guy from the wall, and left. The older gal gave me a small smile, turned and walked over to retrieve some drink glasses from a cupboard. "Can I get you a drink?" She asked, her back turned to me.

"Scotch. Straight." I replied. She took a glance at me from over her shoulder, spared a small smile then began pouring two glasses of Scotch from a decanter. She turned back around and walked over. Now I took her all in. Her hair was the colour of dark brown in old paintings, with equally dark brown eyes and intense eyebrows that made my knees want to buckle beneath me. She had a full set of curves, which nobody had been able to improve upon. She was the kind of woman that made you want to drop to your knees and thank God you were a man. She handed me the Scotch, took a sip of her own, and gave me the kind of look I could feel in my hip pocket.

"I suppose I should thank you, for saving my life. I'm sorry you had to walk in on that. That doesn't happen…ever." She said, catching my subtly astounded gaze as she turned and headed for the balcony door. I snapped out of it and followed alongside her.

"Don't mention it." I replied, walking alongside her as we headed onto the balcony.

"You looked quite…capable, doing what you did to that man earlier. Are you a soldier?" She asked, as we stood over the balcony railing.

"Mercenary." I said, lying. She took a sip of her Scotch and grinned.

"I hear free-lancer work is dangerous. Is saving damsels in distress a standard operating procedure?" She asked, those brown eyes of hers creeping playfully into mine.

"An integral part of the job." I replied. Our gazes met, unwavering for several moments before she looked down at my glass, noting the Scotch I hadn't taken a sip of yet.

"Your drink is lonely."

_I know the feeling_

"Question." I said, shaking my thoughts away as I took a sip of the Scotch. She looked up at me. "Those goons didn't seem to mind taking orders from you."

"Was that a question?" She asked in a surprised fashion. Slightly amused, she took another sip.

"I'm sure there's one in there." I replied. She grinned and looked out over Coruscant, as the night continued its silent parade.

"The club owner and I have an understanding." She replied. 'M.G.M.' Mr. Maxwell-Geoffrey Mannix. Just the man I wanted to have 'a word' with. Perhaps she could help me.

"Mannix, right?" I prodded.

"Yes, you know him?" She asked.

"Only by reputation."

"He certainly has one of those."

"You and him are close?"

"Old friends."

_Getting somewhere_

"And you?" I asked. She took a sip and looked up at me. Were all women her age this attractive? On instinct I removed my overcoat and placed it on her shoulders. She gave me a little smile.

"_Moi?_ I know a lot of people, and a lot of people know me. What about you? I must admit, I'm curious to find out why a young fellow like yourself would barge into a night club, and happen upon a chance meeting with an old lady." She replied. I shook my head.

"You can't be older than 33." I replied straight faced. _Where did that line come from? Damn_

"Oh, you're a sweetie." She replied. She set her glass down, and slowly inched closer to me. I turned to face her as our gazes met. She reached up and removed my hat, getting a full view of my face. That look in her eyes from earlier seemed to fade. "I'm too old for you. You should be talking to one of those little blondes inside." She said, eyes amidst with sadness and regret. She turned away. What the hell was I doing? I was here to get Mannix, but now I met her…and I couldn't get her out of my mind. On impulse I grabbed her hand and pulled her back to me. She clasped her hands around my back and mine around her waist, as our lips met under a cool Coruscanti breeze.


	4. Never taught us that in basic

I could feel light rays of sunshine on my face, the soft feel of bedsheets and pillows on my body as I turned over. I was in her bed, in her apartment. I could feel her gaze on me as I slowly opened my eyes.*

"Good morning." She said with a little giggle. She rubbed my feet with hers under the sheets, as she inched up next to me, her warm body pressing against me. I looked up at her, closed my eyes and smiled.

"They never taught us _that_ in basic." I said with a grin. She laughed, and slid herself on top of me, kissing my neck and mouth. She took my hands in hers, and placed them on her breasts. With female skill and precision, she slid me inside her.

"I'll continue…" She began, as her kissing moved from my neck to my ear, which she playfully bit. "Your lesson." 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

We had another go in the shower a while later. _Whoa_. Mandalorian women had energy _on the battlefield_, but non-Mando women had energy _in the bedroom._ Was this even typical in everyday life for _dar'manda?_ I had always thought these Republic types led boring lives, working in cubicles, arguing in bullshit judicial cases, going home to loveless marriages, and ignoring their kids. But this…I didn't know what the hell this was. We told each other our names, but we were both lying. I was at least. She told me her name was simply 'Camille,' and I told her mine was 'Darman.' It felt strangely fitting. As she went into the kitchen to fix us some breakfast, I threw on a robe and went into the living room.

_What do 'normal' people do when they wake up in the morning?_ I thought to myself. Do they have morning sex all the time? Then sex in the shower? Or did they simply wake up, eat breakfast, say goodbye, and go to work? It boggled me. I looked around the living room to read…something. Newspaper, or…the holonet. I found it, and clicked on it.

"Boring…boring…boring…" I mumbled to myself, as I flipped through the channels. Soaps, morning news, cooking shows. I settled on a news station, as I relaxed on a grandfather chair, propping my legs on the chair's ataman. I had brown slippers on and my robe was flannel. The chair was extremely comfortable, _too_ comfortable. I felt…domesticated. _Weird_.

"_…And from last night's Blue Barracle, here is Maxwell-Geoffrey 'Maximus' Mannix, owner of the Blue Barracle, and his wife, Camille Mannix!_" The reporter blurted like an over-excited teenager. I did a double take. This gal I had spent the night with was the wife of my target.

_Oh fuck_

"Here you go. Orange juice and-"

"Good morning, Mrs. Mannix." I interrupted her as she came into the living room. I paused the news, stood up and took the glass of orange juice from her. She looked at the holonet, then to me.

"It's not what you think." She began. I rolled my eyes and walked past her.

"Amuse me." I replied. This had gone from bad to worse. Still…maybe this could all be salvaged. She turned to face me.

"Yes. I'm married. But, he has a mistress. A Twi'lek. Very nice young girl."

"And? Your husband could sick his cronies on me and I'd be history. What do Twi'lek dancers have to do with that?"

"If he had you killed it would hurt me." She replied. I blinked a few times. I didn't get it. She seemed to notice this and grinned, setting the breakfast plate down and approaching me. "Its called an open relationship, dear. We're married, but we see other people. Do you get it now?" She asked, wrapping her arms around me. Damn she looked good, even with clothes on. I shrugged.

"Not really." I replied, still confused. She giggled. "What?" I asked. She smiled, stood on her tip-toes and kissed me.

"Your cute. And you don't have to worry. Stay with me. I'll take care of you." She said with a quick wink. I raised my brow, amused.

"Oh? Who said I needed to be taken-" She stopped me in mid-sentence with a kiss.

"Are you feeling better now dear? Anything I can do to…cheer you up?" She asked, opening up both our robes and pressing herself against me.

"Well…I suppose I could think of-" She stopped me again with a kiss. And several more as she moved to my neck, then my chest, and further down. As she went about "cheering me up," I gasped. "…_Oh_"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Fortunately, Camille had a large stash of men's clothes at her apartment. My tux apparently had been crumpled the night before. _Imagine that_. We took a cab and went to one of Coruscant's parks, green and luscious, with a large pond in the middle. We held hands and walked about, bought some ice cream and sat down at a bench. She licked her ice cream suggestively. I smiled like a total dork, and blushed.*

"I must be the luckiest guy in the galaxy." I said. She scooted next to me, and I turned to her. "Why me?" I asked, getting serious. Already, my original objective for getting to her husband had begun to fade. Was it right though? To use her? Was I even using her at all, or had I become attached? I thought about what my adopted father would say, but ignored him as she looked at me.

"I like you. You're…not like other guys." She began. I snorted.

"Other guys my age or your age?" I replied. She shook her head.

"Any age. There's something innocent about you. Which I find ironic, given the nature of your work." She replied. I shrugged. "But then, your also quite young. I'm not sure." She replied, at a loss for words. I paused with the ice cream and continued looking at her. After a few moments, a small stream of it leaked down from the top, onto my hand and dripped onto the knee of my pants.

"Aah shit." I cursed. She laughed, amused, as I handed her my cone to clean myself up. Finished, I looked back at her, smiling. I laughed, mostly at myself.

"I think its…" She continued. I focused on her intently. "Everything seems so new to you." She observed. I hadn't recognized this before.

"What do you mean?"

"Anything and everything. Coruscant, the nightlife, clubs-"

"Orange juice. Ice cream. Sex." I continued. She laughed, leaned over and whispered something in my ear. I smiled, as she leaned back and continued.

"Its almost like you haven't experienced…_life_ before." She said. To this, my smile disappeared and I looked away.

"I don't know what your talking about." I said dryly. Feeling silly, she tossed the cones in a nearby trash can and sat back down.

"I didn't mean to offend you Darman. Your just very interesting. I haven't ever met anyone like you before. You come into my life, _save_ my life. Your charming, but there's something about you. You seem…sad. Hurt. Like your trying to escape something." She said. I grew more serious, as thoughts of Malachor flashed through my mind. The images of everyone I knew being sucked up into a vortex and dying instantly. I held back tears, but looked away regardless. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't pry. Just…I know something happened to you. Something bad. Just know that if you want…you can tell me. You can trust me. Ok?"

"Ok." I replied, still looking away. After a few moments, regathering my composure, I turned back. She leaned in to kiss me, then cuddled next to me. I put my arm around her, as we gazed out onto the pond.

"If your looking for work, I can speak to my husband. He needs guys like you in his club."

"Oh yah?" I replied. Now we were getting back on track. The images of Malachor still floated about my mind.

"Yah. Too many hopped up blaster jockeys try to get in as guards, but they're the rough and tumble sort that don't know what they're doing. You though, you'd be perfect. You've been a soldier, set out on your own, and now here you are. Would you like that?" She asked.

"Yes, yes I would."


	5. Networking

That night, Camille and I had a double dinner-date with "Maximus" and his orange skinned Twi'lek mistress at Mannix's club. Naturally, his main bodyguards were around, and frisked me. I had purposefully left my blaster in Camille's apartment. Camille said her 'good evenings' to all the people she knew as we made our way to Max's own table. When we sat down, I finally got a look at my target. Maxwell-Geoffrey Mannix, "Maximus" as he was called, looked older than Camille. A large and round fellow, balding, black and white hairs, but nowhere near was he to being a weak man. Not the easily intimidated sort, probably not possible to intimidate him at all. Rather, he seemed the sort that inspired others to try to please him. Stoic and quiet, he looked over the dinner menu as Camille and I shared glances, recognizing the awkward silence. His Twi'lek mistress gave us friendly smiles, but kept her head down most of the evening anyway. Trying to be friendly, I began talking to her.

"I'm Darman, and you are?" I asked. She said nothing. Instead, Max spoke.

"Don't talk to her." Max said in a husky voice, still looking at the menu. I turned to him.

"Pardon?"

"She don't speak Basic." Max said simply. I raised my brow. _Oh. Ok._ The waiter came over and began asking Max what he wanted. Camille played footsy with me, distracting me long enough to grab my groin. I held back from laughing. Max looked up to notice our immature behaviour, and Camille pulled her hand away. After ordering, the waiter left and an awkward silence fell upon us again. Camille leaned over and touched her husband's shoulder, getting us back on track.

"Max, I was telling you earlier that Darman here is looking for work." Camille said. Max glanced at her then looked at me.

"You capable?" Max asked dryly. He didn't seem particularly interested, rather he seemed detached. Not that it bothered me.

"I am." I replied simply. Max just nodded and said nothing for several moments. He didn't look like he was thinking anything when he spoke again. "You mind hunting Mandalorians?" Max asked.

_Here we go_

"Not at all." I replied, lying.

"Good…good. I had some guys…hunting for 'em. For the bounty. They didn't come back. But you…look like a tough kid. How old a'you anyway?"

"Twenty-one." I replied, truthfully. The only truth I had told thus far.

"Mm." Max simply said. Neither impressed nor disappointed. "You were in the army, now a merc?"

"Correct." I replied. Camille had taken to her glass of wine, watching as our conversation unfolded. Max's mistress just bowed her head down in a submissive fashion, her Lekku dangling down.

"Fought the Mandalorians?"

"I did."

"Yah. You look like you did. Most guys that come back though look like they got the piss scared out of 'em. Looks more like you enjoyed it."

"Something like that. Did you ever serve?" I asked, deflecting attention. Camille continued watching the spectacle.

"Yah, against them Dark Jedi. Long time ago." Max replied. _Ulic and Exar._ "We'll do a background check, and get back to you in the next couple days."

"Thank you sir." I replied. As the waiter came by to give us our food, Camille and I exchanged glances. She mouthed the words _good job_.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

After dinner, Camille and I caught a holo-flick. She insisted on sitting in the back row. I had no idea why, until she revealed her intentions [forcefully]. I of course didn't object. Did all women have this high of a libido, or just older women? Maybe older gals just didn't hide it, while younger gals were sneaky about it. I just plain didn't know. After the flick, we discussed getting a room at a big luxurious hotel, just for the hell of it. Instead we just used some Hotel's hot tub, thanks to Camille's connections. After the hot tub, we dried off and went to the top of the highest skyscraper on Coruscant. We reached the top, and found ourselves alone. We walked around the top, black marble under our soles, the heavy glass windows protecting us from the intense winds.

"You did really good back there. At dinner. I'm sorry about my husband. He's-"

"Hey, nothing to be sorry about Doll." I replied, not bothered at all.

"Doll…I like that. Takes me back. To when I was younger."

"Oh come now, your what, 26, 27?" I asked with a grin. She gave me a coy smile and kissed me.

"When you're my age Darman, you have regrets. You accumulate baggage as you get older. Know what I mean?"

"Yup." I replied, truthfully. I held back the mental images. It was too painful. I ignored them. She looked from the window to me, and gave a small smile.

"Most guys your age wouldn't. Guess that's part of why I like you. At first I took you for being 30." She admitted. News to me.

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Really. You look a lot older than the boys your age. Probably like Max was saying, war does stuff to people. But when I first saw you, when you burst in with the coat and fedora on, and you looked so…intense. Like you wanted to kill somebody. In a really twisted way, it turned me on." She admitted. We both laughed, and we continued walking around the top. She got serious as we continued. "Darman, can I tell you something?"

"I'm all ears." I said, gripping her hand tighter.

"I don't think you're a mercenary." She said. I scoffed.

"What, you think I'm some dirt bag actor?"

"No, no. I don't think you were in the army either."

"So I'm a two-bit-"

"Let me finish. Your not a mercenary, and you weren't a soldier. I don't know who you really are, and you don't have to tell me. Its none of my business. All I know is what I told you earlier. Your running from something, and whatever it is, its driving you. Maybe its war. I don't think I'll ever find out what it is. Just know you can put it behind you. Start fresh. A new life. There is life outside of war, Darman." Camille said. My heart began pounding faster and faster. I desperately wanted to tell her. _Everything_. To let her know who I was. To hold me and tell me everything was going to be alright. Or if not, jump out that window and say _fuck it all_.

"And what gave you that idea?" I asked, maintaining my composure. I couldn't look her in the eyes.

"_You._ I can see it in your eyes. You just seem hurt, or lost, or both. And when its not that, you always look on edge. Like somebody is out to get you. Life isn't always a battle."

"One person's opinion." I replied dryly. I gritted my teeth, slightly irritated.

"So…you were in the war though? Can you tell me that much?" Camille asked. I remained silent, and took my hand away from hers. "I'm sorry. I just want to know you Darman." Camille said. I shrugged.

"I am what I am, and I can't tell you who I am. If I did, you'd be in danger." I replied. Camille grinned, amused. She found the comment more 'cute' than serious.

"Can I say one last thing?" She asked, as we rounded the corner to the next set of windows. We could hear the wind roaring outside.

"Be my guest."

"I think you live and breathe war. You can't relax, your always looking over your shoulder. Everything you do speaks a thousand words, where you've been, what you've seen, what you've done. It's poetic, the way you carry yourself. A warriour, but vulnerable and in pain. A warriour poet." Camille said. I was impressed, not only with her analyzing me, but spitting all that out.

"You seem to know all about me."

"When you become as old as I am, you develop a sense for reading people." She said. I mulled it over in my head, figured she had a point. We stopped, and held the railing as we looked out another window. The wind had continued, and now the rain picked up. Camille hesitated before saying something. "Darman, when the time is right, I'd like to leave Coruscant. With you. Leave the Core worlds, see the galaxy. Or…if we are to part, you have to be the one to get out. You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Just…do whats right. For both of us." Camille said. She was emotional. I edged closer to her and hugged her.

"Alright. I will."


	6. You should see the other guy

"Sir, I apologize for waking you, but you'll want to see this." Mannix's bodyguard shook him awake. Max awoke, annoyed, and looked at the clock. Just a few minutes till 7 in the morning. The old gangster groaned, sat up, threw on a robe, and followed his bodyguard out of his room and into the security room just down the hall. Maxwell-Geoffrey Mannix's own quarters were in fact located just above the club, where he could both lounge, and conduct business. As they entered the security room, his men inside turned.

"Morning sir."

"Get on with it."

"We conducted a background check on your wife's boy, Darman. There never was a 'Darman' with the G.R.A. We checked every service record going back six years, and he's not in there. We're dealing with a ghost, an infiltrator, a spy." One of his guards informed him. Mannix remained stoic. Another of his guards spoke.

"I had some friends in the army, sir. During the war they picked up a bit of Mando lingo, from fighting the bastards. _Dar_ is a Mando word, sir. It means...dead. Or empty. Soulless, something like that."

"You sure about that?" Mannix asked hoarsely.

"I'd bet this month's paycheck on it. I'd also bet that 'Darman' had something to do with the guys you sent into the Outer Rim. The guys that never came back from Sevarcos II."

"A hunch is good enough for me." Max replied.

"Orders, sir?"

Mannix looked dead serious, unblinking as he spoke. "You know what to do."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The blinds inside her room were angled down low, shining stripes of light on the ground just before the bed. Her bedroom was otherwise dark. She liked it that way. She lay on her side, arm stretched out and hand up to support her as she looked down at her boy. He lay still, peaceful, as he slept. So young, yet so jaded. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. He awoke slowly, looked up at her longingly, and scooted closer to her, their bodies melting together.

"Sorry I woke you." She said, just a few decibels above a whisper.

"Mmm." I mumbled dryly, my head nustled next to her breasts.

"Its like you haven't slept in weeks." She said, running her fingers through my hair. It was a calm moment. I needed calm. Needed it for a while. I just didn't want to admit it. Her fingers ran from my hair down to my arms. She traced her fingernails down to my neck, shoulder, and arm, outlining marks, scars that had since been grown over by scar tissue. "Souvenirs from the line of duty?" She asked, running over one particular scar. It was a horizontal burn. Well cauterized. From a light saber. But Republic soldiers and Jedi Knights were on the same side. I tried to think up a good lie but nothing came to mind. I settled on something else.

"Yah. You should see the other guys." I replied. She laughed for a few moments, then slowly quieted down. She looked at me, and I caught her gaze.

"Your not going to let me in, are you?" She asked. I blinked. I didn't know how to respond. My life…was not meant to be like this. I had seriously considered my father's lesson about emotional attachment. And then damned it. _For her_. I didn't know why. Whatever I felt, for her, it was foreign. But still, my father's lesson remained in the precipice of my thoughts.

"Camille, I-" I paused, hearing something outside the bedroom door. I looked past her, at the door. She noticed, looked at the door, then me.

"Darman, whats-"

"Hide." I said with a whisper. Her husband was a crime lord. She knew violence well. She took the bed sheets to cover up and hid behind the bed, as I retrieved my blaster from under my pillow. As I got out of the bed and knelt, blaster raised, the door burst open, revealing the intruder – one of Mannix's guards. A guy in a suit and sunglasses. I was ready. I fired off several bolts in quick succession, killing him. He slumped to the ground, dead. I heard more movement, just before the door. I fired at the wall, sending blaster bolts through the wall and out the other side. Another guard fell dead, his blaster SMG firing off as his dead finger pulled the trigger. I dodged out of the way, jumping over to him and retrieving the SMG from his cold, dead hands. I heard more movement…this time from outside.

"Darman, what's going on?"

"Stay down!" I yelled, as two more guards, this time using rappel lines, burst through the window. Pistol in one hand and SMG in the other, I opened fire, blasting them to pieces. A stray bolt from one of Mannix's men caught me in the side, and I crashed to the ground. Camille rushed to my side.

"Darman, Darman!"

"I…have to go." I said, groaning. I pulled myself up, ignoring the screaming pain from my burnt flesh. I began throwing on clothes, as Camille stood there, at a loss for words. I dressed, and finished with my overcoat and fedora. I stashed the SMG in the coat's inner pocket. "I'm sorry for getting you involved. Just…do yourself a favour and forget about me."

"Why Darman? Just tell me, tell me who you are!" She pleaded, coming to me. I paused, as I looked into her eyes. Just for those eyes of hers I wanted to stay.

"Your right. I am no mercenary. I'm a Mandalorian." I replied. She looked away, and glanced at my arm tattoos. Mythosaur skulls.

"I think I always knew…just…didn't want to admit it." She said. I was running out of time. I breathed hard, as my wound strained me. I began to turn away, but she stopped me.

"I don't care where we go. Just let me come with you Darman." She said. I shook my head.

"Do you know what you've got to look forward to if you come along? Bounty hunters, mercs, the same scum your husband does deals with, protects you from. Nine chances out of ten we'll be captured. They'd kill me, and even worse to you."

"I'm not afraid."

"You've never seen a man within inches of his death, Camille."

"But why Darman, last night-"

"Last night we said a great many thing. You said I was to do whats right for both of us. I've done a lot of thinking, and it all adds up to one thing. Your staying here where you'll be safe. I've got to go. They're going to hunt me till I've got no place else left to run to."

"You're saying this because you want to leave me."

"I'm saying it because it's true. Inside us we both know this wasn't going to last. Your marriage may be on the rocks Camille, but your safe with Max, and that's all anyone can ask for. Like you said, I've got my whole life ahead of me. I have to live it. You come with me and you're only going to get hurt. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Camille, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy galaxy." I said in a mouthful. Her eyes welled with tears, yet she was smiling.

"Your…your right. I won't stand in your way." She replied. She looked like she got a brick dropped on her. I hugged her. She was still smiling.

"Whats so funny anyway?"

"That was a nice little speech. It…sounds familiar." She said, her voice hoarse with emotion. Even my eyes had gotten a little wet. I held back tears.

"I'll admit, that holoflick we saw? _The White House of Morroch_? I stole it from that." I replied. She giggled, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Even now you can make me laugh. That's why I like you Darman. You make me feel…" Camille trailed off, at a loss for words. Time was running short. I gave her one final kiss, turned and left, stepping over the bodies of Mannix's guards. As I headed for the front door, Camille came out into the hallway and called out for me. "Just tell me one thing. What's your real name?" She asked. I had reached the door. I turned around.

"Fett. Douglas Fett." I replied. I opened the door, and quickly left. The rest of Mannix's outfit would soon be crawling all around the place. Time to leave.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

I had escaped from the apartment complex, made my way to the ground floor and flagged down a taxi. As the sky car flew off, I looked out the windshield behind me. Several speeders pulled up, and "killer suits" exited, storming inside the skyscraper. The rest of Mannix's gang. I turned back around to face forward, leaning back in the seat, letting out a relieved sigh. The driver raised his brow at me.

"That kinda morning huh?" The guy asked. I pulled off my fedora, rubbed my face and looked out the side window. I turned to look forward a few moments later.

"Yah, something like that." I replied. The guy nodded. The flight back to Mawbo's hangar was silent. When the guy pulled up, I paid him, exited onto the street, and paused. Just a quick pause. It was a cold morning. Fog had over ran the smog clouds in the sky, though the sky was not all cloudy. The Sun still dominated, the pollution still illuminating the sky with an orange hue. Camille kept coming to mind. I shook my head and took the stairs up to the hangar. Mawbo, perched on his stool, noticed me.

"Eh, mornin' Fett." Mawbo said. I hurried forward. No doubt Mannix's men would be out in force.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked hurriedly, rushing forward. Mawbo put his hands up.

"Nah nah nah, calm down. You're a good lad, you can pay me half." Mawbo said. I pulled out the usual rate, and then a few extra.

"Keep it. You need it more than I do old timer." I replied. Mawbo looked astonished at how many credits I had.

"Next time, half. Hey, why don't you stay with me? We'd make a good team, ya know?"

"We'll see. Thanks Mawbo. I have to go." I said, turning to head into the Basilisk. I opened it up, to find everything was as is. Before I left, Mawbo called out to me.

"Eh Fett, was it wuth it?" Mawbo asked. He wasn't even asking about Camille. It was a general question. But I thought about Camille regardless.

"Every second."

"Don't let em get you down Fett."

_No promises, Mawbo. No promises._

**DOUGLAS FETT MISSION PORTION: COMPLETE**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Camille looked at the four dead men in her room. She stood motionless, numb. Less than 10 minutes after Darman…Doug left, her husband and his crew came inside. Max's guards began clearing out the bodies, boarding up the broken window, checking the rest of the apartment for any signs of the Mandalorian.

"Sir, he's gone." One of Mannix's guards informed him.

"Alright. Wait downstairs for me." He ordered. His crew left the apartment, leaving husband and wife alone. She had gone to the living room, her back turned to everything as she looked out the window, light tears pouring down her face. Mannix came up beside her. "Let me look at you." He said. Slowly, she turned to face him. Fresh tears continued rolling. "Your beautiful." He said, caressing her cheek. "I'll always take care of you. You're my wife. I'll protect you. Your safe with me. This boy, this Mando kid. He's got nothing. I know you liked him. But it was just business."

"I know. I know." Camille said just under her breath. Max wiped away one of her tears.

"Did he hurt you?" He asked. She paused for a long time before responding.

"Not in the slightest. He…he made me feel young again."


	7. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Fett fled the Core Worlds, leaving his lover Camille and his friend Mawbo behind. Though emotionally distraught, Fett still knew that what he was up against, he couldn't bring Camille with him nor stay with Mawbo, for he would endanger them both. Fett left Coruscant just as quickly as he had arrived, knowing he would be hunted, but never forgot her words or the impact she had on him.

Maxwell-Geoffrey Mannix and his wife Camille remained married till their deaths. Max continued his criminal enterprise, but gave up on hunting Mandalorian bounties when his best crew turned up dead. Camille, heart broken, sunk into depression, and would die of alcoholism years later. Mannix would later remarry his mistress.

The bounty for Mandalorians lasted for several years longer – even when the Jedi Revan and Malak, and their forces under them – returned as Sith.


End file.
